


Between the Lines

by rosetwopointoh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Deleted Scenes, F/M, Shorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetwopointoh/pseuds/rosetwopointoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We never see the whole story from every angle; sometimes, we have to read between the lines. These are deleted scenes from my WIP, Stolen Moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for EmpressRaven, for giving me my first-ever Ao3 review and for reviewing just about every chapter on _Stolen_ so far.
> 
>  _Stolen_ is 16 chapters in, translating to about... 130 pages. I have close to 200 written, but I have to bridge significant gaps, and those are stubbornly not reaching towards each other but instead creating more scenes that need patching together.
> 
> This short, "Realizations," has been bouncing around since... oh, chapter 2? 3? of _Stolen_. Please have a listen to Phillip Phillips's "Gone, Gone, Gone"; the lyrics are in the end notes. I think you'll put the rest together on your own. Link to the video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=oozQ4yV__Vw

Corso sat with his back against a rock, knees bent and arms tossed over them haphazardly, head tilted back and eyes closed but ears alert, hearing the sounds of Alderaan in the night, blasters and ordnance and battle far away from the little alcove in the rock they’d found. The local wildlife was nearer by but more or less disinclined to seek them out. So Corso sat, quietly, through his watch and with the intention of sitting out most of Jaax’a’s, knowing all too well the heavy, syrupy sleep that followed a whopping dose of kolto. Her damned scattergun had fried again mid-fight and the crackling powerpack had burned her hand and wrist and opened her guard to a pepper of rounds, a couple of which had made it through her armor to crisp her bicep. She’d talked him through the process of treating her injury, including a stop at a ice-fed river to let the chill soak into her forearm, and after he’d dosed her appropriately with kolto and wrapped the worst of the burns to ensure they healed well, he’d tucked her in the blankets on the air-mat and she’d more or less passed out cold.

He hadn’t missed how she let him handle her, trusting despite his lack of experience and the extra pain he must have caused with his clumsy fingers over the burns, slumping further and further against him as the heavy dose of kolto and hypos dragged her further from consciousness. He lifted his head from the rock behind him and looked at her, smiling at the peaceful slumber she’d eased into. His chest tensed, just under where the assault cannon back on Taris had hammered him, and he rubbed his hand over the ropy muscle, but realized the sensation wasn’t something he could coax away. It wasn’t all that unpleasant, actually; no, he decided. It wasn’t unpleasant at all.

She was simply so beautiful it hurt.

In the stillness of the Alderaanian evening he forgot to keep his guard up and the confusing swirl of feelings he had for his captain escaped from the corner of his brain he kept them in. He was pretty sure he loved her, which was the tricky part, because he didn’t think that _pretty sure_ would cut it with a woman like her and he was pretty sure that if he told her either of the above she’d split quicker than a pissed-off vrlbther’d maul you. Which was precisely the reaction he really, really wanted to avoid.

There was a desperation he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge but which was making itself loudly known. They lived dangerously--their choice of profession was not known for survivability, and as it was she had multiple bounties on her head. What if something happened and he never got to tell her? She deserved to know. Needed to know that she was loved by someone besides her brother--by someone who would give her the world if she asked. By someone who loved her for her and not because he was her brother (although there was true affection there regardless of blood). By someone who loved her because she was Jaax’a Lannen the woman, not Jaax’a Lannen the smuggler captain-who-would-be-rich, who aided the Republic, who never took answers she didn’t like, who could go toe-to-toe with a Hutt or a kingpin and rob them blind while in the same breath sliding a hefty sum to homeless children. Not that she'd ever fess up to having done the latter.

Io had been clear when he told Corso to be patient. So he had been, knowing that what Io had said was right, that Jaax was worth it, that it would take time. Time that he truly, truly hoped they had. Because--and the realization was quiet, resolute, unwavering--he loved her. He did. Thoroughly, to his bones. Yes, she was the most beautiful thing he’d seen, touched, kissed, the first woman who had stirred his blood to a pounding fury that eclipsed mere _want_ and the only one who could ease it, anymore, but there was more to it than that. When life left her bereft, he wanted to be there, be her balm; let his armored back be her shield, his rifle her weapon, his arms hers when her strength failed. The urge to move to her and hold her against him was suddenly overwhelming.

He paused his meditations for a moment to listen, still hearing nothing but the occasional explosion, miles away, or a flutterplume ruffling its feathers in the trees above. So he looked at Jaax’a again, his eyes tracing the shapes of her face, her full lips, the scars over her left eye, her long lashes, her still-unbroken nose. He smiled ruefully at that last one, running one finger along the ridge of his own nose, a slight crook to it from one of his first run-ins with Seps as a kid.

She shifted in her sleep, face tensing briefly before settling again. The urge to hold her again intensified. Once she’d fallen asleep against him that first time, injured and fighting back nightmares, he’d found it was addicting to have her beside him, her body soft in sleep and molded against him, her soft breath filtering through his clothes to touch his skin. She let him protect her in sleep, guarding her body and her mind.

He knew without looking that his watch was over and hers had started, but she slumbered on, healing at a deep, cellular level, and he didn’t really mind, anyway. He didn’t need that much sleep and he wasn’t injured. So he stayed, leaning against the rock, watching her, realizing somewhat belatedly that perhaps the whole watching her while she slept thing might be a little creepy, but he couldn’t help himself. She was too lovely and he took comfort in the peace of her sleep, the softness of her face as the muscles relaxed entirely.

 _Yes_ , he told himself, _I do love her. There ain’t no other explanation. She’s more woman than I could ever ask for and I love her for it. I love her for her sharp tongue, how she flirts just enough, how she does good things_ good _and bad things good, too. How she makes those hard choices so maybe the rest of us don’t have to._ His mind strayed. _How she looks in that jacket and those armored leggings of hers, how they cover everything up but leave nothing to uncertainty. How her lips feel, how she feels in my arms..._

He shook his head and tried to calm his pounding heart, hearing his breath coming harder in his ears. _Kriff._ There were threads of fire, the blue at the heart of the flame, snaking through his veins and lightening his head. They tangled where they met in his heart and snarled, demanding release through the arteries that provided no outlet because they couldn’t link to _her_.

She stirred, yawning; the faintest, grayest tints of light were coming and she blinked repeatedly at Corso, trying to wake up. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” Her voice was rough, husky, and he swallowed, trying not to react.

“You needed rest,” he said, standing slowly, his knees protesting at being asked to work after hours of folded stiffness.

“So do you,” she said, unwrapping herself from the blankets, then on second thought tugging one around shoulders as she got up. She still used her bandaged arm and wrist awkwardly, but not with the delicate pain she did when she’d fallen asleep. “Get some rest. I’m in no hurry.”

Corso nodded and stepped towards the mat; Jaax’a stepped out of the way and Corso stopped her, reaching for her shoulder. “Jaax.”

“Yeah?”

He took another step towards her and looked at her, meeting her eyes. The sleep-fogged expression on her face cleared as she saw the seriousness, the hunger in his eyes. She’d known for a while that he desired her at the most primal of levels; felt the evidence of it against her, in fact, in the fleeting moments they’d spent with each other as nothing more than man and woman, only thin cloth keeping their skins separate when they wanted to fuse. But he rarely came to her like this, almost predatory, desire thick and contagious. Her breath came shakily for a moment as his feather-light touch on her shoulder became heavier, as he stepped closer, put his other hand on her other shoulder, but closer to her neck, sliding up a fraction, thumb able to touch her cheek.

The anticipation had her quivering, the acute knowledge that _he’s going to kiss me_ sending the butterflies in her stomach bursting into her throat, a thrill in her chest as her heart pattered, and suddenly the waiting was over and his lips were against hers and cool relief flew through her blood at the taste of him, his warmth, and as always he was so soft and tender against her mouth, never _taking_ a kiss but always _offering_ , _giving_ , and she was more than happy to do all the taking.

But she was still half-asleep and her hand hurt so the kiss stayed gentle, exploratory, small puffs of breath skating over lips and cheeks between kisses and during, and eventually it was Corso who pulled away, his eyes still closed, clearly fighting hard for his control. She realized belatedly she must have made a little noise of longing when he did, because he cracked one eye open and chuckled, shaking his head.

“If we kiss much longer, Jaax, I can guarantee you we’ll be mighty uncomfortable on just that air mat.”

“Are you saying we should upgrade?”

He attempted to mimic her usual raised eyebrow with mixed success; she attempted to remain serious, but her mirth broke free, first through a smile, then a smothered laugh, and shortly the two were giggling together. When their laughter subsided Jaax’a leaned forward fractionally to lay her head against him and feel his warm, steady heartbeat against her cheek; his arms froze, then slid down carefully to rest around her waist, cradling her. They stood like that for a long span of moments before Jaax’a sighed and straightened, smiling at him. “Get some rest, Corso."

He yawned as if on cue. “Aye, cap’n.” By the time she’d settled against the rock Corso had vacated, he had curled up on the sleeping mat, blanket tugged over him, and fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When life leaves you high and dry  
> I'll be at your door tonight  
> If you need help, if you need help.  
> I'll shut down the city lights,  
> I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bribe  
> To make you well, to make you well.
> 
> When enemies are at your door  
> I'll carry you away from war  
> If you need help, if you need help.  
> Your hope dangling by a string  
> I'll share in your suffering  
> To make you well, to make you well.
> 
> Give me reasons to believe  
> That you would do the same for me.
> 
> And I would do it for you, for you.  
> Baby, I'm not moving on  
> I’ll love you long after you're gone  
> For you, for you.  
> You will never sleep alone,  
> I’ll love you long after you're gone  
> And long after you're gone, gone, gone.
> 
> When you fall like a statue  
> I'm gon' be there to catch you  
> Put you on your feet, you on your feet.  
> And if your well is empty  
> Not a thing will prevent me  
> Tell me what you need, what do you need?
> 
> I surrender honestly,  
> You've always done the same for me.
> 
> So I would do it for you, for you.  
> Baby, I'm not moving on,  
> I’ll love you long after you're gone.  
> For you, for you.  
> You will never sleep alone.  
> I’ll love you long after you're gone  
> And long after you're gone, gone, gone.
> 
> You're my backbone,  
> You're my cornerstone,  
> You're my crutch when my legs stop moving.  
> You're my head start,  
> You're my rugged heart,  
> You're the pulse that I've always needed.  
> Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating  
> Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating  
> Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating  
> Like a drum my heart never stops beating...
> 
> For you, for you.  
> Baby, I'm not moving on.  
> I love you long after you're gone.  
> For you, for you.  
> You will never sleep alone  
> I love you long after you're gone.  
> For you, for you  
> Baby, I'm not moving on,  
> I love you long after you're gone.  
> For you, for you  
> You will never sleep alone  
> I love you long, long after you're gone.
> 
> Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.  
> Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.  
> Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.  
> Like a drum my heart never stops beating for you.
> 
> And long after you're gone, gone, gone  
> I'll love you long after you're gone, gone, gone.
> 
> _"Gone, Gone, Gone" from Phillip Phillips' The World From The Side Of The Moon, copyright Interscope Records_


	2. Whirlwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corso reflects a bit, high above Balmorra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for laloga, 'cause she does such a nice job with the little Corso/F!Smuggler vignettes and I'm a rabid fangirl. Ahem. :)

Corso sighed as he stretched his bare feet out and rested them on the console in front of him. The bridge was silent and somewhat soothing at night, lights gently noting small things. From their hangar on Balmorra’s orbital station he could just see, through the orange-tinted shield protecting them from the bleak emptiness of space, the stars, perhaps some nearby moons.

He’d managed to pause the whirlwind of their romance colliding into Jaax’a’s new position as a Republic privateer taking a nosedive straight into the crazed nonsense that was the Balmorran land-grab of a war, and, sometime in the witching hour between 0300 and 0400, found himself here. He smiled. _Whirlwind’s a good way t’put it, I reckon._

He thought of Jaax’a, peacefully asleep in a safe bed for the first time in more than a few days, and hoped that the one night would be enough, for now. She’d been limping far too much for his taste after that thigh wound. Aside from that and a minor blaster burn across her shoulder, though, she was whole, and for that he was right grateful. Balmorra hadn’t been a cakewalk.

Himself, a spy’s attempt to gouge out his heart via a vibroknife between his ribs was itching, still, but the spy hadn’t planned on Corso knowing the clashing buzz of a vibroblade when it hummed within a generated stealth field, and the little knife had only just slid under his skin when the bigger man spun, Sergeant Boom’s butt clashing with the littler man’s collarbone, snapping it like a twig and throwing him out of his stealth field, before Flashy’s fire took him out for good from across the battlefield. Jaax’a was there momentarily after to draw the knife in such a fashion that it wouldn’t cut anything vital, then examine it for any questionable substance; apparently finding none, she’d pressed an antiseptic wipe firmly to his side, ignoring his yelp as it fizzed and stung, and sealed the thing up with a hasty squirt of kolto-laced sealant gel and an adhesive kolto patch to be safe before the two of them jumped back into the fray. He knew it was the sealant that was itching so and what had conspired to keep him awake once he’d woken for a much-needed glass of water.

He’d been surprised he’d been able to sleep, as keyed-up as he’d been, but Jaax’a had ensured quite thoroughly that he would. He chuckled quietly to himself. Upon returning to the _Sunsoarer_ for a night off-planet—there were no safe places to stay on-planet—he’d told her he’d help her rewrap her thigh after she’d showered. To his (only slight) dismay she’d undressed in her—well, their, now, though he’d only moved a few things over—cabin, left the ‘fresher door open, and came back out still half-dripping and not making any effort to cover herself with her towel.

He’d smiled while wrapping her thigh, because he’d tugged her towel down to cover the tantalizing curves of her ass and what wasn’t so hidden between her legs so he wouldn’t be distracted and she’d protested, wiggling attractively, until he’d stilled her with a gentle hand and murmured something about her making it difficult to wrap her thigh. After the wound was covered with supportive stretch-tape, the gentle pressure easing the strain on the angry, fresh red scar, she’d said she needed him to lose his shirt to check the cut in his side. He’d obliged, but then she’d requested he shuck his pants so she could smooth healing gel over any blisters or bruises or scrapes, and she’d barely replaced the top on the tub of gel before she’d pressed the length of her bare skin against his and he’d given up resisting. Neither of them had the strength or energy for lengthy lovemaking, but there was nothing wrong with short and sweet and soothing, their roaming hands reassuring themselves that the other was truly whole, and it had led them into a gentle, dreamless sleep. One that had been interrupted by the blasted itching in his side—he was beginning to wonder if perhaps there _had_ been something on that blade—but she was still asleep when he slid out of bed, the tense lines of her face relaxed and soft, and really that was what mattered. He could sleep later.

Staring at what he could see of the stars, he let himself drift, for a time, not quite dozing but not truly wakeful, until footsteps came behind him, quietly.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Corso blinked and shifted in his chair to look at her. He could tell by how her robe clung to her that it was all she was wearing; her hair was soft and sleep-mussed and she was smiling, gently, at him. She was only really putting her weight on her good leg, though, and so he patted his lap and she came to him. He helped her sit and she curled up, resting her head against his bare shoulder, his arms holding her close. “I’m alright.”

“I missed you.” She shifted against him, gently, her nose rubbing against his neck.

“Got used t’having me around quick, huh?”

“Feels like you’ve always been there,” she said, quietly. _In a way you always have._ “Weird waking up alone.”

“Sorry, darlin’.”

“S’ok.” She sighed. “Can we just leave?”

“There’s still one outpost that needs us,” he said, quietly. “Trouble with Mandalorians. If I remember rightly they’ve nabbed some families, not fighters.” _Blasted planet’s like Ord Mantell on stims. But worse._

“Tomorrow, then,” she said.

“Tomorrow.”

“And then we get a vacation.”

“Bein’ a privateer harder work than you thought?”

He was amused, of course. Teasing. “Maybe.”

“Goin’ legit just too much for th’great Jaax’a Lannen?”

“Not legit. Just _sanctioned_ under-the-radar instead of… not.” She made a face; he felt it against his skin and chuckled. “Stars, I hope we don’t have to go somewhere with more Colicoids after this.”

He shuddered in agreement, remembering how torn up his side had gotten even through his armor after just one good smack across the ribs from a big one.

They sat together in silence, and some time later she yawned hugely, enough to send a shiver down her spine. “C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured to her, getting his arms under her and standing. She slipped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his skin. “Let’s get you back t’bed.”

He settled in beside her, once the door was closed, and sighed in contentment at moving from the crew cabin to this; to here. To _her_. She curled herself around him, murmuring something against his skin, and he marveled again at how quickly she’d trusted him with herself entirely; she was indeed naked beneath her robe, which she’d shed before getting under the blankets again, and there was no question at having her bare skin against his, shrouded under layers of blankets and with him against her to keep her warm.

“I love you,” she said against his neck, drowsy, probably half-asleep again already.

“I love you, too, darlin’,” he murmured, sighing in contentment, realizing her body against his side quieted the itching better than any ointment, and fell asleep once more.


End file.
